


On The Loose

by sempreme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bedroom Sex, Begging, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Community: wand_in_a_knot, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Gay Sex, HP: EWE, Lack of Communication, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Narcissa is mentioned only, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts, Praise Kink, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, but her presence is important, ish, it's just a hint blink al you'll miss it, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 09:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempreme/pseuds/sempreme
Summary: Trying to give his voice a decency, “Do you know where we are?” Draco questions.Potter raise his head to look at him with a confused expression. “One of the billion, fancy, useless dining rooms of this castle?” His tone is of sufficiency, and Draco almost wishes Malfoy Manor had the power to kick idiots out of its wards.“No, Potter,” he mutters, trying to bite back a laugh, “this is my childhood bedroom.”“Oh.”





	On The Loose

**Author's Note:**

> After weeks, I'm finally able to present you what is basically just 4.9k words of bickering before smut/shameless smut/dealing with just-happened smut. Nothing too fancy, but I liked writing it, so I guess the goal has been accomplished :D
> 
> I wrote this for the  **Round 2 of the 24-Hours-HP-Porn-Tag-Challenge** hosted at [(Don't Get Your) Wand In a Knot](http://wand-in-a-knot.livejournal.com/), with the promtp _without warning_. (Obviously, what happened here is me not being able to post in the 24 hours given due to _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ and totally missing the chance to put out the fic when it was my time to do so. Again, I am so sorry with the mods and the other partecipants.) (What is important now is that the fic is finally out of my pc! Yay!)
> 
> Thankyouthankyouthankyou to the lovely people who looked over this for me, [Zee ](https://zeecrazybookworm.tumblr.com/)& [Athena ](http://ladybrekker.tumblr.com/)❤ You literally saved me ❤ 
> 
> I solemnly swear that I’m up to _good_ : I don't own the world of Harry Potter and I'm not getting paid for this work, which is for entertainment purpose only.
> 
> Title is from _[On The Loose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_bEMtS7IwU) by Niall Horan_.
> 
> Enjoy!

As soon as Potter shuts the door and turns to him, eyes shining with lust even in the quiet darkness of the room, Draco whines softly. He feels incapable of restraining himself from feeling granted that they’ve finally escapade from his Mother’s uncomfortable questions.

“God,” Potter mutters, breathing hard. “Just shut up,” he demands, before Draco can continue with his mocking. After that, his mouth is on Draco, lambing at his neck, hands wondering everywhere - on his arms, creating delicious goosebumps; on his hips, making Draco tremble a little as Potter moves his attention to Draco’s mouth, sucking at his lips so hard while caressing the skin barely covered by a thin, white shirt; on his arse, fingers sinking into the flesh, squeezing and grabbing it with full passion.

Draco can’t contain the moans, and he’s well aware that he should be ashamed – only, he’s not. He’s touching Potter with every inch of his body: he’s perfectly fine where he is.

“My my,” Draco tries again, a smile on his lips. “A whole hour with Mother and you’re already giving up. Where is our Saviour? What have you done to him?”

Potter snorts over his head. “Don’t provoke me,” he warns him, not a bit of seriousness in his tone. His glasses are all crooked, and his cheeks are the most pink. Honestly.

“But you love being provoked,” Draco whispers, “by me, in particular.”

Potter smiles again. “After today, maybe it’s you all Malfoys that get to me like anybody else.” Another kiss lands on Draco’s lips. “Your Mother requires a certain... attention, if you want to hold a conversation with her.”

Draco moves away from Potter’s face just to raise his gaze. “We’re not talking about Mother while making out,” he states, pointing Potter’s shoulder with a finger. “Especially if your only intent is to drag her.”

Potter simply hums. For half a minute. Draco doesn’t know where to put his hands – still gripping Potter’s biceps – or where to lay his eyes on. (He’d like to study the shape of Potter’s perfect jawline for the rest of his existence, but Potter is looking directly at his face, and, Merlin. They’ve already had sex, thank you, but Draco still has trouble holding Potter’s gaze for more than five seconds.)

After clearing his voice, “I don’t know what’s rarer here,” Potter says, sounding almost casual. It’s the tone that makes Draco’s hands tremble with how much he wants to raise them to shut his mouth. “You being a mama’s boy or you referring to us kissing as ‘making out’.”

Draco blinks a few times, before responding. “Obviously, there’s still a lot you don’t know about me.”

Potter simply snorts. “Obviously,” he echoes, before lowering his head again and kissing Draco some more.

Draco whines into Potter’s embrace, hands gripping at his neck, almost standing on his tiptoes to kiss his inviting mouth – bloody Auror job that made Potter grow in height. He feels Potter’s body beneath his, hot, hard and tremendously perfect, and Potter’s hands touching each one of Draco’s sensitive spots. Draco could _sing_ for how much he’s happy in this very moment.

“Look at you,” Potter says, slowly, sucking at Draco’s earlobe as Draco trembles underneath him. “As soon as I touch you, you don’t bite anymore.”

Draco goes rigid all over. Because Potter is right, and there’s not much Draco hates more than Potter being right when talking about what Draco prefers – what Draco _craves_.

“Mother should’ve made you cry,” Draco points out, barely a whisper.

Potter looks at him strangely. “I thought we established to visit your Mother today _precisely_ to prevent my murder from happening.”

And right he is again. Draco’s decided to come seeing Mother with Potter from the first time since... _whatever_ he and Potter are doing, specifically on this day, because tomorrow will be Potter’s birthday, and Draco knows whatever wild scheme Mother would have in mind at Potter’s arrival, she never would’ve done something awful the day before someone’s birthday. (Mother is selfish and cruel and everything, but not _so_ much.)

“Aren’t you a know-it-all,” Draco murmurs, almost absently. He’s already craving Potter’s lips back on his, and what they’re doing here is biting at each other, talking too much - because the tense expectation of what will come next makes both of them _hard_.

And hard they are.

Draco moves his hips to test it, and immediately finds Potter’s length to rub against. He almost faints right where he is.

“Fuck,” Potter swears under his breath, moving his big hands to Draco’s hips to stop him. “Stay still, or I’ll take you like this.”

Draco shivers at the thought. Eventually, “You wouldn’t,” he speaks, tone sure. “You want to prepare me, and you want to watch me crying while you do it. Quick sex is _not_ something we do.”

Potter smiles at him, cheeks flushing, eyes glowing in the dark. “You have the most incredible mouth I’ve ever meet.”

“And are you going back to do something about it?”

“Mmh,” Potter simply replies, before returning to suck at Draco’s lips. Draco squeaks happily, closing his eyes and enjoying Potter kisses travelling from his mouth to his neck, which Draco angles in the perfect way for Potter to praise, leaving marks behind that will make Draco shout at him – “Can’t you control yourself? I’d prefer not to go to work and being asked if I were attacked by a vampire!” – but that they both know he will secretly enjoy as much as Potter enjoys leaving them.

Potter bites and leaps at Draco’s neck, and while Draco tries to unbutton Potter’s black shirt, he’s well aware that Potter is whispering filthy things against his skin, something along the line of _stubborn, prettiest man I’ve ever kissed_ and _going pliant so handsomely_ and _whining like the perfect girl, you are_.

And, _fuck_ . Draco has to drop his hands from Potter’s clothes in order to grip at Potter’s bicep to steady himself and give his erection a little break. He _has_ to.

Potter hums content into his ear. “What is it?” he asks, a hint of... _something_ in his voice that makes Draco want to cry for how _good_ it is – a hint of _trust me_ , _I’m going to make it so good, whatever it is_.

(Draco still can’t believe Potter is so open even when sex is implied – _especially_ when sex is implied. He should feel lucky.) (He does, fuck, _he does_.)

Whichever good things Potter has prompted, Draco doesn’t want to put aside what he previously has thought about. Trying to give his voice a decency, “Do you know where we are?” he questions.

Potter raise his head to look at him with a confused expression. “One of the billion, fancy, useless dining rooms of this castle?” His tone is of sufficiency, and Draco almost wishes Malfoy Manor had the power to kick idiots out of its wards.

“No, Potter,” he mutters, trying to bite back a laugh, “this is my childhood bedroom.”

“Oh.”

As Potter moves his gaze from Draco’s face to the things in the room, barely visible in the darkness of the sunset – a big wardrobe that used to scare Draco to death after his Father had told him of the existence of Boggarts, a lot of drawers, a golden mirror in one angle, the canopy bed behind them, green sheets looking as clear as just changed –  Draco almost feels Potter’s curiosity coming from his body in waves: it surrounds Draco like a gentle, but at the same time dangerous veil, and if Draco isn’t quick enough, he knows it will strangle all his previous intents. And that is not something Draco’s nerves – Draco’s cock – would accept so openly.

“You’ll stick your nose into my things when I’ll be sleeping, fucked and finally happy with the world,” Draco orders, taking one of Potter’s hands to gain his attention again. “C’mon.”

“You’re not happy now?” Potter asks quietly, hands back to Draco’s neck, slightly touching the marks he’s left there. Draco shivers a bit. “I’ll be, after you’ve fucked me on there,” he clears, pointing at the immaculate bed in the room.

He hasn’t slept in this room since before the war. The light of the sunset coming from the window makes the bed cover shining bright, changing its colour from a deep green to almost a light blue one. Draco remembers those sheets being the softest he’s ever touched, and also the whining of the first weeks at Hogwarts, when his bed had the same sheets as the others’ and he didn’t like it – always wanted the best. (He wrote to Mother to send him sheets from home, and silk sheets arrived the day after: he’d never changed them since.) Draco smiles melancholy at the thought: he always was such a _fool_.

“I see,” Potter giggles, as Draco manhandle him to make him land on the edge of the bed, before sitting himself on Potter’s lap. “You want to have sex in your old bedroom. _Christianize_ it. I get it.”

Draco hits him in the chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Less chatting, more acting.”

However, before he can do anything, Potter takes both Draco’s hands in his, stilling him. “Stop being a brat and look at me.” There’s something in the hint of his voice that Draco knows _too well_. He’s almost attempted not to follow the order, to move from Potter’s body, open his trousers and take his cock into his mouth like this, making him shut up for once, dropping his... statuary attitude.

Eventually, what happens is Draco’s breathing almost giving up. He swallows, before raising his gaze and locking his eyes into Potter’s green ones. “What,” he murmurs, almost shyly.  He seriously has thought they could have have sex without using this... _this_. (Draco’s not even sure how to call their arrangement, let alone their dynamics when it comes to sex. For now, he’s okay with just knowing he likes to make Potter do _some_ decisions.)

Light is dancing smoothly over Potter’s features as he talks. He’s handsome. “Did you drag me away from dinner with your Mother just because you were impatient to have sex in here? Answer this, no need to get snappy.”

The calmness in Potter’s tone, the sincerity in his eyes, makes Draco’s knees go weak - he’s fortunate he’s sitting. Lowering his gaze, “Yeah,” he whispers, almost imperceptible, as his hands move tentatively from Potter’s torso to his belly, longing on what could come next. “I just... Even if Mother’s here... Wanted to try it. I guess.”

Then, he feels Potter’s hands to his cheeks, and the next second they’re kissing again, this time gentler, Potter’s lips like feathers on Draco ones. It’s so much... Draco almost isn’t aware of the way his own body is trembling under Potter’s attention.

“You could have warned me,” Potter murmurs against Draco’s face, a ghost of a smile on his plump lips. “C’mon, then. Show me how much you want it.”

Draco doesn’t think about it twice. When they’re like this, it’s simple to just switch the rational part of his brain off and let the sensations do the work. He knows what to do without overweighting it: Potter is good at taking care of them _both_.

He moves from Potter’s lap, jelly-like legs making it difficult to stand. He intends to do what he has to do, so he tries to ignore the weird feeling, and kneels to the ground between Potter’s legs. He takes a breath, another one, and before he can do anything, he sees Potter’s trousers disappearing in front of him along with his pants, leaving Potter’s hard cock full on display, curved against his stomach, huge and _perfect_ for Draco to suck at.

“C’mon,” Potter hints again, this time edging on impatient. Draco nods and takes Potter’s cock in his hand to guide it to his mouth: the muskiness of Potter’s sex, that intoxicating flavour of _man_ goes straight to Draco’s cock, and it’s so easy for him to put his mouth on Potter’s length, to taste it almost fully, nose going to his pubes almost in one go.

“Jesus fuck, Draco,” Potter swears loudly, as Draco sucks fully one, two, three times on his cock, breath tickling Potter’s pubic hair. “You’re going to kill me one day.”

Draco is pleased with Potter’s reaction, and he doesn’t hide it. He moans low against Potter’s cock, and moves back to the tip to catch his breath for a brief moment, but never breaking the contact with the hard, tender piece of flesh: he laps at the head, tasting the bitter precome there, using as much saliva as possible, letting it slide down the length.

Every time Draco’s tongue touches Potter’s pulsing vein, “Fuck,” Potter murmurs. One hand comes up to Draco’s hair, gripping at the back of his neck. However, Potter never takes full control of the situation: the hand remains still into Draco’s hair, and Potter’s arm simply moves with Draco’s head which is doing the sucking. (Draco is glad of that.)

Draco doesn’t stop his work, even when Potter moves forward to whisper above Draco’s head, “You’re so bloody good at this.” Draco is panting over Potter’s cock, he feels drops of sweat running along his back, but he doesn’t stop.

Eventually, when a summer breeze starts to enter from the window, and Draco feels himself shivering in a weird way, Potter decides that’s enough. “Up. On the bed,” he demands, this time tugging at Draco’s hair a little harder to distance him from his cock.

Draco wipes the precome and spit from his face, almost missing Potter’s body getting closer to him until Potter’s lips brush Draco’s, stopping his breath.

“Mmh,” Potter hums. “You love it filthy, don’t you? Always messy, dirty... You amaze me.”

Draco tries to shook his head, moving away from Potter’s fresh breath, but he finds out that he does _not_ want to deny what Potter’s saying. Instead, he starts all over, and drops his head on Potter’s tight.

“Even now, you clearly want to put up a show, and you’re so bloody gorgeous...”

“Potter...” Draco almost moans against the flesh. He’s not sure of what he precisely wants, mind a bit fuzzy: he just needs Potter to drop with the dirty talk, because, if the pull of hotness he’s feeling between his own legs says anything, he’s a step away from coming. Just from giving head and a bit of words.

“Yeah,” Potter says above him. “On the bed, okay?”

Draco nods almost absently, more affected by the tenderness of Potter’s voice than anything else. He stands up, seeing black spots in from of his eyes for a few, scary seconds, until Potter’s solid hold takes one of his hands and guides him on the mattress, where Draco lays down with a _tumph_.

Potter doesn’t waste time: he moves to kiss Draco’s tense shoulders, while he gently lowers Draco’s trousers, leaving his arse _bare_. “Oh,” he whispers.

Draco’s body is on fire. He knows pretty well _what_ he’s done. Potter is right when he calls him _filthy_.

While caressing one cheek, “You wanted it like this? A fancy dinner with no pants on? Being _naughty_?” Potter asks rhetorically, voice low, sexy, sinful.

_Yes_ , Draco wants to reply. _Because I know how much it affects you, I know how much it makes you hard knowing you have no power to prevent it_.

However, what he does is whining some more, thrusting back into Potter’s firm hands now both on his cheeks. “Potter...” he murmurs again, tone pinched and shamelessly turned on. His mouth seems to know Potter’s name only, and Draco _should_ understand why. (Except, he doesn’t.)

Potter, being the perfect, stupid man he is, knows exactly what to do, though – exactly what to say. “Look at you. First you act like a brat, then you’re moaning my name like a bitch, don’t even know how to talk properly anymore. Aren’t you ashamed, Draco?”

_Fuck_. “Wanna fuck,” Draco says indeed, sounding desperate even to his own ears while he tries to find Potter’s hands against his arse again. Potter has moved them to distance Draco’s legs though, and is sitting between Draco’s tights now. Draco holds his breath.

“Always want and never give. That’s what you do.”

Draco thrashes his head against the bed cover. “I give to you,” he says, spreading his legs a bit more, emphasizing the concept. He knows what he looks like right now, all open and desperate under Potter’s gaze, body full on display, cock leaking on the bed and arse sticking out as a delicious temptation.

That’s what gets to Potter. “Yeah,” he murmurs, almost absently, but never taking this attention away from Draco’s body, touching his tights with callous hands, fingertips gazing under the swell of Draco’s arse. Next time he speaks, he does it just against Draco’s crack, and that takes from Draco the most frantic of the whines. “You’re so pretty, spread out like this on your childhood bed. Makes me want to take you apart.”

Draco nods furiously, dragging his cock against the sheets to find some relief. Eventually, Potter’s hands stop his movements. “But you don’t want to rush it,” he adds, lips almost touching Draco’s skin. “You want me to make you feel good until you’re crying. You want me to make you begging for me to fill you up with my cock.”

“ _Please,_ ” Draco finds himself murmuring, voice trembling and body shaking for how much he wants all of this. Next thing, Potter is spreading his cheeks and his mouth is on Draco’s hole, and that’s. That’s _everything_.

Draco moans loudly against the sheets as Potter’s tongue already tries to peek in – even if Draco isn’t that open yet, Potter’s already going into full tongue-fucking mood, as if his only intent in life would be making Draco whine and cry for anybody else.

The thing is, Draco would never be that open under someone’s touch as he is when it’s Potter who’s trying to make him stumble on his own words, who surprises him every time Draco can’t seem to know how to ask for things while Potter already knows everything, who never take things for granted when coming to Draco’s lust, Draco’s irrational response to Potter’s words, to Potter’s presence.

Even if he tries to hide it from _both_ , Draco knows too well the influence Potter has on him. That’s why Potter’s tongue in his arse right now feels like the most important thing in the world.

Potter licks Draco’s hole a few times, before tracing the crack from the hipbone to Draco’s balls. “Oh, f-fuck,” Draco has to mewl; otherwise, he would explode, as his whole body feels on fire, from the tense position of his back - flat on the mattress to allow his hips to stick up against Potter’s divine mouth – to the tip of his cock, from which precome continues to drop on the green material of the cover.

Potter’s tongue sucks at Draco’s balls for a few seconds, before returning to Draco’s hole, and this time, Potter doesn’t hold himself: between licking and sucking at the sensitive skin there, he whispers words directly on Draco’s hole, as if they were the key to open its entrance – tight, oh, so tight. _Taste so good_ , he’s saying, _prettiest hole I’ve ever seen_ , and Draco... Draco’s only human, after all.

“Harry...”

For a moment, Potter stops his movements. Draco whines quietly, upset: he’s vaguely aware of the reason why Potter’s gone rigid of all sudden, but he doesn’t want to think about it right now. He wants to come.

He pops out his arse some more, nudging against Potter’s face, feeling something dropping off from his face – his glasses, probably. This seems to put Potter’s out of his trance: Draco feels him breathing hard over his crack, and immediately Potter’s mouth closes deliciously over Draco’s hole, kissing it as it’d praise the most valuable thing in his life.

Draco pants though the whole thing, and doesn’t protest, when Potter doesn’t rush the sucking anymore, instead touching every spot of Draco’s arse with his tongue, lapping tenderly at the puckered entrance, opening it a little bit.

“Want,” Draco says, his trembling voice echoing in the room. “Want it, _please_.”

Potter hums behind him, and Draco distinctly feels the vibrations running over his own body. He wants to cry, and doesn’t even know if from happiness or frustration.

Then, Potter starts to force his tongue into Draco’s hole, finding the resistance of the ring of muscles, and that’s when Draco knows he needs to _relax_ , otherwise Potter won’t be able to fuck him as they both know Draco likes the most – probing Draco’s most secret part with his strong, capable tongue.

Draco takes a long breath, and next thing he feels is the tip of Potter’s tongue inside his arse. He has to suppress a loud moan against the palm of his hand.

“Perfect,” Potter moans, voice roughed, and then he’s at it again, fucking Draco’s hole until his tongue enters almost wholly, and Draco, _fuck_ , Draco is completely gone.

He’s sweating under the white shit he’s still wearing, drops are running along his legs, too, but he accepts it as if it was contributing to the dirtiness of the situation, that primary feeling that has the power to turn him on so much, stimulating all his sensations and needs. Potter rimming him is the cherry on the top of his sexual desires.

After a few minutes - between Draco’s by now unrecognizable moaning, Potter’s slurping sounds, Draco’s screaming muscles, Potter’s tight hold on Draco’s cheeks, Draco’s wetness in his eyes, Potter’s wetness on the mouth – Draco feels an inch from coming. He almost wants to give up in the same moment, but Potter’s sweet licking, Potter’s gentle hands on him make Draco changes his mind.

“Coming,” Draco warns him, blinking fast and trying to restrain himself. Another lick and he’s _sure_ he’s going to come.

Fortunately, Potter stops right away, moving his hands from Draco’s arse to his tights, soothing him with circular caresses on his skin. “Been so good, haven’t you?” he speaks above him, tone low and sounding destroyed – as if he were the one who had just been fucked. “Stayed still the whole time, took my tongue so well,” he adds, lowering his face over Draco’s arse again to kiss each one of his cheeks. “Bet you wished it was my cock.”

Draco shakes his head between his arms. “Like your tongue as much.”

“Mmh,” Potter murmurs, while opening Draco’s cheeks once again, exposing the used hole under his gaze. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

He lowers his mouth on Draco’s sensitive skin, lapping at the hole one, two times with kitten licks. “Come for me,” he whispers, then his tongue is inside Draco’s hole again, doesn’t stop fucking him for the next ten seconds, and _fuck yes_ , Draco knows he’s finally allowed to let himself go.

“Harry, I...” Draco tries to say, but Potter touches a spot inside Draco’s arse that makes him see sparkles behind his eyelids, and he does it repeatedly, cutting every brain connection still left in Draco’s head, taking his breath away.

It’s happens in a moment. Draco comes, shocked spasms and all. He comes with just Potter’s tongue in him, not a hand laid on his cock, which spurts all over the green cover, twitching and hurting in the best way while Potter doesn’t take his mouth away from Draco’s hole. Draco’s not even sure the loud moans are coming from his mouth or from Potter’s – maybe _both_.

After a minute, when Potter finally distance himself from his arse, Draco tries to catch his breath, eyes still closed and mind still hazy. He’s barely aware of Potter’s moving his own arms behind him, quick tugging of his own flesh as the room, felt silent for a brief moment, starts to fill with wet, staccato sounds.

Draco swallows, going pliant and content against the mattress, finally satisfied, and feeling his hole fluttering in the best way. That’s what makes Potter lose it, he guesses, because the next second, he feels him coming, too, long ropes of come painting Draco’s lower back, grunts of _fuck yeah_ and _amazing_ and _so good_ filling Draco’s ears and making him shiver again.

When he’s done, Potter collapses beside Draco’s spent figure, face hidden in the sheets and limbs thrown out in the most random way, clothes all gone with the exception of his socks. Draco smiles secretly behind his hand.

A minute passes without nothing, just the two of them trying to find the energy to move and clean the mess they’ve made, not really wanting to do anything besides keeping their eyes closed and relax their muscles. Until, like the sod he is, Potter speaks up, in that casual tone that usually irritates Draco.

“Not to put in the background the amazing performance you just gave me,” he starts, voice low, calm and content, a little dull because of the cover in front of his mouth, “but I think your Mother has been listening to us shagging this whole time.”

Draco’s eyes go wide, and he genuinely feels his heart stopping. “What?” he shouts. He was hoping they could get another round, one that would’ve implied him being fucked properly by Potter’s cock. But.

Potter is still face down on the bed. He moves a hand in a vague gesture. “No Silencing charms and all.”

Draco blinks one, two, three times, before responding. “Why the fuck did you not warn me?”

He doesn’t expect Potter to reply straight away: he knows he usually goes all lazy after having an orgasm, and what they’ve just done wasn’t a just a simply handjob on a work night. In fact, he starts stretching his arms up, moving his head to give his neck some relief, and eyeing Draco from under the mass of curls that has landed in front of his head, green lighthouses that matches perfectly with the cover of Draco’s old bed. “I can still feel you under my tongue.”

Draco growls again, and moves quickly to shut his mouth with one hand. “For real?” he hisses through his teeth. “You just said Mother listened to us and you continue with you showing your pervert side? You cretin!”

Potter chuckles against Draco’s hand. He _chuckles_. (Draco is going to strangle him.)

“It’s not me who has the weirdest kinks and wanted to shag in his old bed, in his old house,” he comments, like it’s a normal thing to say when someone else is eavesdropping. Draco can play at this game, too.

“Says the one who gets off on being-”

“Shut up, Draco.”

“Ha, _now_ it’s time to shut up?”

Potter looks at him for a seconds, then snorts again. “You’re impossible when you’ve just come.”

“Potter!”

“Malfoy!”

They stare at each other like they’re about to go at each other’s throat, until Potter starts laughing softly, and Draco simply sighs, closing his eyes and collapsing on the mattress again.

He’s aware of Potter moving to reach his wand, landed somewhere on the floor in the rush of the moment, and performing a charm to the room. Then, Draco feels his body being covered by another one, stronger and hotter and wider, not caring a little of the come sticking his back.

“You called me Harry. Before.”

Draco tries to remain calm, even if his pulse becomes faster. “I know.”

Potter starts to caress Draco’s stomach, where come has already dried on the skin. Next second, Draco feels a bit funny, and when Potter touches him again, he finds out that he’s cleaned him with a non-verbal, wandless spell. “I noticed you do it just when we’re having sex.” Potter’s tone is calm, but Draco picks up his nervousness anyway.

“I know,” Draco repeats. Then, when it seems that the conversation has stuck to an uncomfortable point, “We don’t talk about it,” he adds, hoping this will lead to Potter dropping the matter.

This time, it’s Potter turn to “I know,” reply, before sighing. “Eventually, we’ll have to. You just presented me to your Mother as a ‘friend from work’, and then she heard us shagging in her house. She’ll be confused.”

Draco moves into Potter’s embrace, coming to face with his toned chest, where the huge, dragon tattoo is sleeping just above his heart. “What does Mother have to do with us?”

“Nothing.” A minute passes, during which Draco traces the line of Potter’s abs. Until, “Maybe, it’s me who’s confused,” Potter tries, barely a whisper above him.

Draco goes all tense, and looks up to Potter’s face: in his as- green-as-grass eyes, Draco sees he’s a little hurt. He can’t really blame him, can he? Even Draco doesn’t know what they are, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to take _that_ decision. However, what he says after giving Potter a little smile is a simple, “We’ll sort this out.”

He doesn’t stop another second to think about what’s going on into Potter’s mind. “Now come here,” he demands, before putting a hand behind Potter’s head and guiding him to crash their lips together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> YES: having sex in the childhood bedroom is TOTALLY a kink ❤❤
> 
> Comments and kudos are genuinely accepted ❤
> 
> Let's chat on [Tumblr](https://sempre--me.tumblr.com/)!


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